(A very short blog post, the end of the “fight of the beasts” and after a pain-filled recovery, Antierra will enter a new phase in the fighter compound. Although on the surface nothing seems to have changed, yet everything has with Antierra’s win over Warmo.)
Meanwhile I’m still pulling down to break his other wrist. Another pull and another snap. What his hellish cross did to my wrists in his dungeon I have returned to him. I know I have won. Bit by bit I tear away at him, breaking bone, tearing into muscle. I stomp on his feet with the bionic-equipped foot and break his arches, making him collapse on the sand. I continue to beat his body to a pulp. I aim a kick at his genitals and rip one of them off. A few more blows and kicks and I ease off slowly, watching him convulse and bleed to death at my feet.
I stand utterly alone. There is no crowd. No arena, nothing. Just empty space with colours floating around me as if I were experiencing the Shearing drive effect.
End blog post #79
Begin Blog post #80
What have I done? From his own mind is see. I did what he has done to thousands of innocent victims over the years he was master of the Inquisition and all the other lives he lived to oppress and destroy: I ripped his body apart bit by bit. As he did to the males and boys he received for the torture, I ripped his balls out. I could have done much more to him but I made my point to the crowd above me.
I put one foot on the mangled mess that had been Warmo and raising my bloody hands above my head I let out one final shriek, loud enough to be heard by the women into the compound. I had told Tiki to listen for my cry of victory over Warmo. I had instructed her to let as many of the women know of it, and to pass it around to those who couldn’t hear it. I had warned her it could mean my flogging to death later but that I was willing to chance that for the power we had gained together.
Let them flog me to death – I have won.
Two handlers approach to take me. Suddenly every once of strength leaves me, the world around me turns black and I hear a noise as a great waterfall. I am aware that I collapse and the handlers, instead of holding on to me let me fall into the sand.
Even in the state I’m in I can understand their reluctance to touch me. I’m a frightful mess and the smell of Warmo is all over me and how can they know it isn’t my smell? They cannot even know for certain I’m still alive.
End blog post #80